Gundam Rock
by wayofthepen
Summary: Trapped and surrounded by her enemies, Revy's only hope is a legendary Japanese weapon!  Rated for violence and Revy's mouth.


The job was supposed to be a simple pickup and delivery.

A small part of Rock noted that he should really know better by now.

Briefcase in one arm and screaming Revy in the other, he hit the office door shoulder-first and kicked it shut behind them. He stopped just long enough for a bullet to hole through the cheap wood close enough to brush his hair before he dragged his cargo deeper inside and collapsed behind a hopefully solid cinderblock wall.

Revy was screaming when she wasn't swearing, with Rock's tie making an impromptu tourniquet/bandage around her leg. A lucky shot had broken her shinbone and Rock tried his best to avoid looking at the wound and what might be sticking out at such an unhealthy angle.

Someone yelled outside, and Revy fired blindly at the sound, being rewarded with a cry of pain. She managed to laugh, grunt and swear in the same breath as she reloaded, fumbling for one of her last clips.

Things weren't looking good. They were on the third floor, and there was no way they could climb out with Revy's injury. Despite the ever-expanding list of profanities Revy was teaching him today, he had to concentrate. There had to be something, some way out, something they could use…

* * *

"You are completely fucking insane, you know that, Rock?"

Chain through the handles and secured with a long bolt...

"Do you have a better idea?"

A few plastic ties to secure the goods and keep his hands free...

"Is this some Japanese thing? We're gonna die because you watch too much shitty TV?"

Rock slipped the chain over his head and strapped on the heavy welder's helmet.

"Well, maybe if I had a motorcycle…"

His pulse kicked up another notch as Revy awkwardly pressed her body against his. He knelt down and felt her legs slid around him, gripping them tight. She was going to kill him for this, he was sure of it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day, just out of the blue 'hey Rock, remember the time you conned me into a dry-hump? BLAM.'

"Eh?"

"Nevermind…"

Rock stood, slowly, metal and flesh weighting him down. He had himself, Revy, and the briefcase that was their job to take of to worry about. The briefcase he only cared about in an abstract, businessman sense of responsibility. And he was terrified of a painful death, of course. But Revy? His feelings about her were admittedly…a little harder to define.

"Alright then…CHARGE!"

The first shooter gaped as the two mercenaries rushed straight out of their only refuge. Revy put a round clean through his forehead, even while being bounced up and down riding piggyback. Rock squeaked behind his helmet as bullets began to smash against the oversized boilerplate he'd lashed to his torso, bruising his knees on it with every step forwards.

But the armor held, and Revy's aim was good. The two ran screaming in fear and anger through the old factory, Rock trying his best to remember the route to safety and bullets flew, people died, and Revy's body ground against him.

At one point, a few men were able to get behind them. Revy let herself lean back, her body parallel to the ground and shooting back while upside down. It was only the metal counterweight that kept Rock from falling over, and he registered another promise of future murder when Revy rose back up and mashed her breasts into his back.

Dutch was a reassuring sight with his shotgun, raising an eyebrow at the two of them as they came barreling out of the warehouse and throwing themselves into a waiting car. Both were too exhausted to say anything, and Benny, as much as he wanted to, couldn't think of anything funny to say. The sight was just that bizarre.

* * *

An hour later, Rock was able to stand again and had managed to pull off the makeshift armor, noticing each and every little impact-dent in the metal before he threw it aside. But he couldn't really wear a bulletproof vest and a suit and tie in the future, could he? It just wouldn't look very professional.

Right now, he literally had his hands full with a snarling Revy who had momentarily forgotten about murder as the adrenaline high wore down and the pain of her broken leg returned in force. As Dutch handed off the suitcase to Hotel Moscow, Rock tried to help one of Balalaika's men treat her injuries – and was left doing most of the work himself with Revy swinging at everything that came close.

"A little trouble, but nothing we couldn't manage."

Dutch's deep voice was reassuring; his tone noting the mission was finally over.

"And everything is in place. Excellent work as always, from the Lagoon Company."

Balalaika had glanced at the two arguing out of the corner of her eye, her expression unreadable.

"Oi, Revy, stop moving around so much and let your man take care of you."

"The _**fuck**_ did you just say?"

"He's certainly devoted to her to put up with that kind of abuse…"

Boris had looked over and couldn't help but speak up. From their stolen car, Benny poked his head out the window at the comment.

"You know, we were just talking about that!"

"COCKSUCKERS!"


End file.
